


The Art of Dying

by usandthemoon



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No One Direction, Character Development, Declarations Of Love, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Harry Styles, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Breakdown, Sad Louis Tomlinson, Self-Harm, Self-Harming Louis Tomlinson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26303164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usandthemoon/pseuds/usandthemoon
Summary: Before Louis could just pretend Harry wasn't even there, which sounds harsh, but it worked in favour of everybody. It was like a system, everyone stuck to their ways and the nights would go by swiftly. But now, Harry's fucking everything up. He's getting on his nerves and Louis wants him gone.Or another sad Louis fic (because apparently I have a knack for that) where Louis self-harms and nobody knows until Harry walks in on him literally doing it; he helps him through the storm.
Relationships: Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 99





	The Art of Dying

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not good at summaries, i'm sorry!

Louis' friendship is a little complex but here goes nothing.

His first friend, who is also his best friend in the entire bleeding existence of the universe itself, is Liam Payne. They met when they were younger during Primary School and have been inseparable since. It's quite ironic actually, considering they hated each other at first glance, but now they're closer than ever. Best of buds.

Niall Horan tagged along a few years later during High School. He had a class with Liam and Louis (Computer Science—nobody pays attention in Computer Science) and the three of them sort of clicked immediately, they also got put into detention a lot as well. He's good fun, Nialler.

Then there's Zayn Malik, the coolest guy you'll ever meet. Seriously, there's just something about him. Liam and Louis wanted to get high one afternoon when they were seventeen, so they saw out an adventure. That led them to Zayn, the well-known stoner of their year group. He welcomed them with a hazy, charismatic smile and glossy eyes. Since then, like with Niall, inseparable. Although there was some jealousy, with Louis when Zayn got too friendly with his best mate. Turns out it was just a small bromance, Louis finds it endearing, so it's all good.

And finally, Harry Styles.

He's a little confusing, to say the least. It's not that Louis dislikes the guy, he just doesn't really know him. At all. Well, scratch that, he knows blatant facts about Harry: where he came from, his likes, his dislikes, all the boring things that shape somebody's character. He also knows Harry is a tall, slightly lanky, awkward yet somehow charming bloke. It's just, Louis' never had a proper conversation with the boy and it's been like a year and a half since he joined the group. Louis was a little defensive at first, welcoming somebody new to _his_ friendship circle, but life went on and eventually, he got past it. Harry stayed and that was that. They're mere acquaintances if anything. Weird.

So maybe it isn't too complex after all, but still.

Weird.

They're all at Uni now, somehow they all managed to end up at the same place. It's a strange coincidence that they don't really bring up because it's quite convenient for them all and it almost seemed too good to be true. Liam and Louis share a large dorm, obviously. Niall, Zayn and Harry as well. God knows how they managed that one—fitting into one tiny complex—but hey, not Louis' problem. They all tend to hang out at his and Liam's place anyway.

Like tonight, for instance. It's a Friday evening and the bunch of them are all dotted around the tv, sprawled out on the sofas and the floor. There are too many empty beer bottles scattered on the floor, some are probably spilt which is going to be a pain to clean up, but Liam can do that. Louis' head will hurt too much in the morning for him to even move out of bed, what a shame.

Basically, it's been a long week for every single one of them, too many assignments and too many sleepless nights. They deserve drinks and whatnot.

It's around half eleven when Louis dismisses himself from the group to go to the bathroom unnoticed. He groans and smooths over his thighs with a sigh, standing up. It's time, again. He deserves it, he's worked so hard this week.

So, he pads down the hall, glancing over his shoulder and noticing all the boys are still facing the telly before he opens up the door and slides inside. He flicks the light on and meets his cowardly reflection.

It isn't that Louis hates himself, really. He wants to lead a happy and euphoric life, he wants to make his family proud and succeed to his best ability, but it's not that simple. Life isn't a straight line, you know? He has to free hand to get by.

Louis has looked for many, many, different forms of relief from the cloudiness his mind can't seem to shake.

He tried exercises once, that didn't last. Eventually, it made him worse, he got groggy and would beat himself up for slacking behind on runs. He then tried controlling his diet, hoping he would have a better hold on that, but it didn't work either; with his lifestyle and consistently hanging out with the lads, he was forced to eat normally (as normal as one can during their time at University). He even tried pills, Christ. Sounds awful, doesn't it? At first, they helped with sleep, but somehow he'd managed to overcome that and they wouldn't work anymore. As he started buying and taking more, Liam soon picked up on his addiction and binned them all. He's glad though, they kind of affected him during lectures and all that, so yeah, that didn't work either.

Then he took about ten thousand steps back. Old habits really don't die that hard.

Granted, when Louis used to do this to himself, he was in a different state of mind. He had a different motive, to punish himself for being too stupid during lessons or too inadequate, but it was mainly about how he looked. He was never satisfied. It was a vicious event that would occur frequently, at the end of school, before school, at school. His mum found out and Louis had no choice but to stop. Seeing the sheer guilt and heartbreak in her kind eyes broke him and struck him with even more pain than the blades ever could.

So, he stopped.

Five years later, well. Assignments and tasks got stressful again and Louis didn't know what to do. He slipped up, managed to stay clean for a couple of weeks, then realised he was actually in control now. So he started doing it again, but this time it _is_ different. Promise. He's in control.

It's a release that he ravishes. It cleanses his brain and makes his body feel a little tingly like he's floating. He doesn't do it a lot, but sometimes he can't help it. It's unpredictable, how many slashes he'll do or where he'll do it. The pain varies as well, there are many technicalities he's picked up on over the years.

For now, though, it's his thighs. His old 'special spot' was his wrists; they were accessible and addictive to watch when little beads of red would gather and trickle down his pale skin. But that was how he got caught. He lost control of who could walk in and someone saw in the school bathrooms, that led to his mum finding out. So, he explored other parts. Louis knows it sounds ridiculously messed up, but it's okay. He's okay, really. It's just how he copes with things.

He's happy though, for the most part. As long as he smiles and says the right thing, it's all good. He's okay. He's happy and good.

Louis takes a deep breath and opens up his side of the cupboard, he twists an empty bottle of shampoo and tips out the blade. A broken piece of glass. That was what he used to relapse(?) the first time. He was cleaning up and the mirror fell, it shattered and a sharp piece of glass was sort of waving at him from the tiled floor. Glistening and twinkling in the white light. Subconsciously, he picked it up and dragged it along his arm and was delighted with the outcome.

That's what he uses now. It's a little animalistic, but he can't really be picky. Plus it's technically not that awful because it's only a little chipped shard of a broken mirror, right?

He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and carries out his release with ease. Not too deep, just enough pressure to let it all out. To let the cloudiness of his storm clear.

Louis' almost entirely captivated by the hypnotic feel of his pulsing leg, so much so, he doesn't notice when the door swings open and he's no longer alone. He didn't lock the fucking door.

"Yes, I know! Hold on, I—"

Harry.

He's gawking at him like Louis' a bloody lightning bolt, all wide-eyed and jaw slack.

"Do—" Louis can't even fathom the words. He's been caught red-handed, pun intended. Okay fine, joking about this isn't okay, but what else is he supposed to do other than laugh? He isn't crying, that's for sure.

The boy before him stammers, fiddling hastily with the door handle after he steps inside and closes the door. The click of a lock signals they're both trapped inside.

Louis holds his breath, sceptically moving his hand behind his back and sliding the shard into his back pocket with ease. Harry doesn't seem to notice it. After that, he shakes his head and breathes out, turning swiftly and pulling his joggers back up. Awkward. "Do you need the loo? I'll get out of your way," he murmurs shakily after he's finished readjusting his bottoms. The material clings to his fresh wounds and he tries his best not to wince.

Harry blinks but shakes his head, resulting in his curls flopping all over the place. His big, green eyes remain on Louis and he hates it, he feels vulnerable. He needs to leave.

Suddenly, he attempts to move around Harry but is stopped when a large, inked arm is held out and blocks his path completely. "Wait," Harry pleas quietly, hesitantly.

This isn't a good situation, Harry shouldn't have seen this. Fuck. Don't panic, it's only Harry. Louis definitely does not care what Harry thinks. "Please let me through," he manages to respond, shoving his front into Harry's arm. It's strong though, so it doesn't budge. Louis notices the muscles of his bicep contract as he keeps it steady.

"Wh—why were you doing that?" Harry asks lowly with his eyes remaining hooked on Louis'. He lowers his arm when Louis steps back, perching himself on the edge of the bathtub. His eyes fall to his lap and he plays with his hands distantly.

"Wasn't doing anything," Louis shrugs, purposely not looking up at Harry. He feels like a child who's been put on a time out after being caught doing something he shouldn't have. It's just. Louis isn't in control, he needs to be in charge of this situation but he isn't and that's not okay.

Harry sighs, shifting between one foot and the other, swaying and glancing stressfully around the bathroom. "Look, Louis—" he rubs his temple. "I can't just pretend like I didn't see what you were doing. I'm not going to do that," he affirms.

He's not doing this. Louis shoots up onto his feet, stepping across the room to where Harry is standing and grits out, "you didn't _see_ anything. You're a nosey sod who needs to learn how to back out of other people's shit. Leave me the fuck alone. And knock next time."

It's when his hand wraps around the door handle Louis feels a curt tug on his shoulder.

"I'll tell them, I'll... I'll tell Liam," Harry says.

Louis doesn't look at him.

"Fine, do it. Whatever. Just be prepared to never come back here again, dick," he huffs, shaking Harry's hand off him and walking out without another word.

The rest of the night is agonising. Louis puts on his happy face despite his stinging thighs toying at the back of his mind and the itch he can't quite scratch as Harry glares daggers at him from across the room. The entire time he's there, his eyes never trail away from him. It's driving Louis insane.

Before Louis could just pretend Harry wasn't even there, which sounds harsh, but it worked in favour of everybody. It was like a system or a routine, everyone stuck to their ways and the nights would go by swiftly. But now, Harry's fucking everything up. He's getting on his nerves and Louis wants him gone. 

-

"Yeah, well. I don't like him and I don't want to be around him anymore," Louis explains, opening the fridge door with a harsh yank and searching its contents hungrily.

He hears Liam groan exhaustively, shutting his textbook and looking at Louis from his seat around the kitchen table. Okay, maybe their dorm room isn't necessarily a room in itself. More like a flat. Yeah, it's a flat. Liam's got a lot of cash, alright? They don't even live on campus. "You can't suddenly hate someone without a valid reason," he replies with disbelief.

"I have a reason: he's an intrusive prick," Louis groans, pouring himself a glass of orange juice. "I mean, who walks into a toilet before knocking? I literally said aloud, 'I'm going to the loo.'"

Liam hums, spinning his pencil absentmindedly on the table. "Why are you so wound up? I've done it to you before, it happens," he says.

He's talking to Louis like he's insane or something. It's annoying.

"Yeah, well... That's different. I _know_ you," he replies, a little flustered and slightly aggravated.

"C'mon Lou, give the guy a break. He apologised."

"No. He tried to apologise, but I didn't want to hear it."

"No. You closed the door in his face before he could even get the words out."

"Eh, same shit. I don't care. As long as he got the message," he finishes his drink and slides the glass across the countertop.

"He didn't do anything wrong."

"Don't care, don't like him. Can't help my feelings. I'm going to bed," he grumbles, leaving the kitchen and trailing down the hallway.

"It's two in the afternoon!" Liam yells from the kitchen.

"It's Saturday. Fuck. Off!"

-

Before anything is said, Louis would like to clarify that he is not spiralling. He isn't.

The thing is, Liam didn't do anything about the whole 'Louis hating Harry' situation. Of course he didn't, he's Liam. The peacekeeper, the steward, the almighty. He would never be the cause of an unstable environment.

Fucking shit.

Louis' thighs have been stinging a lot more than usual. Mainly because he's been a lot more stressed than usual.

Fucking Harry Styles is still here, he's still part of the group. They've hung out and Harry just stares at Louis like he's got a bloody red target painted slap bang across his forehead. It's inhumane.

The boys have started to notice too, with Louis' fists curling at his sides in the middle of the café they were in and him not even realising. Niall had to lean over and ask if he was okay, which no, he isn't _okay_. Harry's ruining everything.

He has constantly gone out of his way to avoid Harry whenever there's a second he could attack. Every time he and the lads (and Harry, ugh) are walking from said pub to pub, Harry will practically lunge at him. Louis couldn't tell you what the hell Harry wants to actually say to him, he's certainly not planning on finding out.

When Harry makes eyes at him from in front and starts to slow down and attempt to chat as they walk, Louis darts away. Luckily for him, Liam's still got that childish spark in him despite his motherly nature and will always give in to a good chasing match.

So, that's what he does. It's like his fifth time pulling it. Harry tried talking to Louis on their way to their flat and he bolted from him in a flash.

What doesn't make sense is why Harry's still trying. It doesn't concern him. They're not that close, they never have been and it's not like Louis' actually in any danger or unawareness, he's in control dammit. So why won't this curly-headed, long-legged, big-headed, oaf leave him the fuck alone?

Louis' going to snap eventually and he really doesn't want to. Things have been so tame lately and he doesn't know how to deal with this. All of the boys aren't interested in helping the situation, they're just going about their lives like nothing's going on and Louis is just having another strop or something.

It's been three weeks or so since Harry decided to pry and walk in on Louis. Another Friday night has arrived and the bunch of them are walking back to Louis and Liam's flat for more drinks and such.

Most of them are already drunk out of their minds, Louis more than anyone. Actually, Niall may be the most drunk, the boy never stops. He isn't sure about the others, every time he goes to check on Harry's status he distracts himself with another drink. Louis doesn't want to think about Harry more than he already does. He doesn't care about him, either.

The front door swings open and Niall skips inside, Zayn follows giggling because he's drunk and high, so he's living life to the fullest and Liam is shouting after them both, "if you break anything you're both dead!"

Louis laughs and elbows Liam, throwing his coat on the kitchen table followed by his wallet and loose change. He heads to the fridge and digs out a pack of beer, swaying a little because he's quite dizzy. It's nice though, he feels good.

As he closes the fridge door, Louis almost drops the drinks when he sees Harry looking at him blankly. He places the beer down on the countertop and clutches his racing heart.

"Stop avoiding me."

The fuck.

"Excuse me?" he turns back around and deadpans Harry, his defence walls are shooting back up and his muscles are tightening.

"Just talk to me, okay? That's all I want. You can't avoid me forever," he says, folding his arms across his chest sternly. Louis' actually in awe. Where's this sudden bravery come from? Harry's never been one for intimidation.

"Shame," Louis smiles falsely. "Because I don't really care what _you_ want," he shoves past Harry and greets the boys in the living room with a cheer. They return the energy and each takes a bottle with joyful grins. Louis side-glances Harry, who's already staring at him angrily before opening up his own beer and sitting down.

He doesn't look at Harry again. 

Somehow, Drunk Louis decided it was a good idea to dig out the Grease DVD and put it on full blast.

Now Niall, Liam, Zayn and him are all screaming the lyrics to _Summer Nights_ at an excruciatingly loud volume. Poor neighbours. Niall's taken to the role of Sandy and is standing up high on the sofa, singing his beating heart out whilst Liam and Zayn add in the backing vocals. Louis' Danny of course, who else would he be?

Eventually, though, he really needs to piss. They've had like, what, three beers each since they got back? He doesn't know how his bladder has held up that long.

After finishing up the last verse, where Louis purposely joined Niall on the couch and cupped his cheek as he sang out the high note (the best bloody part of the song, he thinks) and pretended to swoon for him—the boys were clutching their tummies and struggling for air—Louis chuckles and makes his way down the hallway.

He stumbles a bit, face planting the wall and laughing to himself as his face slides down the chilly surface. Bloody hell, he's really fucking gone.

He opens the door terribly, he probably should've turned on the lights but hey, he made it this far. Louis falls inside and sighs, splashing his face with some cold water and relishing the feeling of it as it reacts with his flushed cheeks.

Just as he goes to use the loo, the door handle twitches and inches open. Big shocker, it's the one person he does not want to see.

"What the fuck mate? Occupied," he tries to close the door but fails miserably. Harry steps inside, turns on the light and shuts the door. Here we go again.

"Are you doing it again?" he asks, scanning the room.

"What?" Louis blinks. His head is far too fuzzy to comprehend what the hell is happening. "Trying to piss? Yeah, I am. Get out." He shoves at Harry's large figure relentlessly, expectantly, he doesn't move an inch. "I'm serious man. Get the fuck out, you fucking weirdo," Louis pushes with all his strength now. Harry takes hold of his wrists and stops him wordlessly. "What do you want?"

"Are you okay?" Harry says abruptly with worried eyes that are almost blinding Louis'. They're so green and soft, lovely and tame. Louis almost feels at ease.

He's an idiot.

"Please spare me whatever speech you've conjured up, Harry," he tugs his arms free. "I'm fine. What you saw really was nothing. I'm not planning on killing myself or anything if that's what you're thinking. So you can stop this now."

"Stop what? I didn't think you were planning on doing that," Harry says. "I just, you're hurting yourself and it's not okay. Why are you doing that?" his voice is soothing and slow.

Louis hates how it's actually calming him down. For some reason, he's starting to miss Harry's large hand holding his wrists in place, there's a burning sting where it was, he craves the heat and comfort of Harry's touch. Weird.

Louis' sort of speechless.

After all of this time, hiding and masking away his silent battles, somebody's finally trying to break down the high walls that he has spent so long perfecting. He's dreamt of it, he'll be honest. Louis has always coped with things alone, his stress and whatnot, but he's imagined what it'd be like to merely spill what's always on his mind.

All he wants is someone to look at him and see the person he hides so well.

But it's not that simple.

"I—" he chews his lip. "It's nothing, really. Honestly, Harry, we aren't that close, yeah? Don't worry about it," he treads lightly. "I'm sorry for snapping the other week, alright? Let's just move on with our lives."

Louis offers Harry an awkward smile and taps his shoulder before sliding past him promptly.

How unexpected. Harry closes the door before it's even been open a fraction. Louis groans.

“It's not moving on if you keep doing it."

"Why do you even care!" Louis spins around and half-shouts.

Harry seems taken back, pursing his lips and caught breathless. "We—we're friends," he replies timidly.

Louis can see the fragile hurt swirling within his jade eyes. He feels bad, but this isn't right. "You don't even know me! What is this? Some sort of game. What, you wanna fix me? Wanna make yourself feel better by helping the poor guy who slits his thighs? Cut the crap, Harry."

"That's not... I care about you. You shouldn't, you shouldn't be hurting yourself."

"Again, you don't know me. People do this shit all the fucking time. What did you expect would happen? You'd call me out on it and suddenly I'd be fixed? Please," he laughs.

Harry tugs at his hair stressfully, "Lou—" he clears his throat when Louis' jaw clenches, "Louis. I'm sorry, but you can't keep doing it. You _can't_ ," his voice is shaky.

"No offence, Harry, but I don't really care what I can and can't keep doing. Let me out of this room."

"I said I'd tell Liam. I'll do it this time, I'll tell him tonight if I have to."

Louis freezes. "Wh—what are you suggesting I do to stop you? I don't get it. It’s not. Why are you doing this to me?!"

It's like all of the air around them has been sucked out of the room and their both standing still struggling to breathe. Louis feels much small compared to Harry, granted the boy's much taller anyway, but he feels _tiny_.

They're both facing each other silently, eyes locked and lips parted.

"I know we aren't close. I know you don't like me. I know you never wanted me to be friends with your friends. I'm sorry about that. But even though we don't really know each other, I will never be able to sit back happily knowing you're doing this to yourself. If you don't want to stop for yourself, at least do it for Liam or Niall or Zayn. They love you and they will find out one day, Louis. Imagine if it were Liam. Imagine if you found out Liam was doing horrible things to himself, hurting himself. How would you feel then?"

Fuck. "It'd—it'd break me," Louis mumbles.

"Exactly. I know it isn't my place, but at least try. Please?" Harry says hopefully.

Louis eventually pulls his eyes from where they'd fallen, hooked onto the floor, and meets Harry's gaze with raw guilt. He parts his lips and the words attempt to unravel but he's cut off too soon.

"Lads? The fuck are you doing in there? C'mon, you're gonna miss Grease Lightnin'!" someone shouts from the living room. Probably Niall.

Louis withdraws entirely and reaches down to twist the doorknob. "I—" he glances at Harry. "I'm sorry."

The door clicks shut and he walks away.

-

Wednesday afternoon's hit Louis like a truck. He's got a ton of work to get finished in so little time, it's a wonder he's still functioning. Everyone's at their flat, as always. Liam's in the kitchen with Zayn baking something that probably isn't legal. Niall's playing Mario Kart and sat like a child excitedly in front of the telly and Louis is sat on the sofa with his laptop in his lap as he types away. Harry's nearby with his back against the same sofa as he reads some book he's incredibly invested in. Louis sometimes sees his nose scrunch up whenever he reads an interesting line of some sort, it's kind of...cute.

Although despite his diverted attention, Louis' still stressed out. This assignment is awful, he can't even think of an opening and he's only just finished his plan, that took him half an hour to complete alone. His thighs are a little jittery and he knows what he wants to do, he knows what'll calm him down.

The thing is since Harry spoke to Louis that one night about what people would think if they found out about his coping mechanism, Louis has been a little torn. A part of him wants to ignore whatever they would think and ease his own mind, but the other part can't help but stray away from his ways. He hasn't hurt himself since, which is peculiar. Especially because he's had so much going on for almost every day this week, usually he would've cleared his mind at least once, maybe twice, by now. But he hasn't. Weird.

"Um," he clears his throat and shifts in his spot. "Harry?" The curly-haired boy looks over at him instantaneously, glaring at Louis with an adorably confused gleam in his bright eyes. "You any good at essay writing?"

It might be a stupid question seeing as Harry's a business major, but still, Louis needs help regardless.

"Erm," he closes his book and stands, taking a seat next to Louis. Their legs brush but neither of them pulls away. "I can have a look for you if you'd like?"

Louis tries his best not to beam when his chest flutters at the sight of Harry's dimples carving into his cheeks. "Please."

"Alright." Harry smiles and takes Louis' laptop and places it on top of his own legs.

-

It seems like all they do is drink nowadays. He isn't complaining though, they never get tired of it. Sitting in the living room, everyone's limbs are intertwined and the air's light and dainty.

He isn't sure how, but Louis and Harry are sat together. Well, no. Harry's back is pressed into the sofa again and Louis sprawled out across his lap like a little puppy, nuzzling into his tummy for warmth and security. He's blaming it on the drinks and the fact that all of the other boys are borderline cuddling too, but in reality, Harry is just really comfy and smells nice.

His little fingers are dancing around Harry's inked arm curiously, tracing every tattoo he can see as Harry uses his thumb to reciprocate the motion on Louis' tattoos as well. They're both drunk out of their minds, all loopy and crazy, but it's nice. He doesn't actually mind Harry as much now, if it means he gets a cuddle buddy, he'll let him stay for the time being. Maybe forever, if he's good.

"Things I can't," Louis mumbles to himself as he traces the letters of Harry's tattoo on his wrist. Harry hums absently, stroking Louis' hair. Louis then pulls on his other arm and follows the same action, repeating his motion by tracing the words there. "Things I can."

"Mmhm," Harry smiles and hides his face in Louis' feathery hair. He mentioned earlier that he likes the smell of it. It was obvious he would like the smell though, Louis bought an apple-flavoured shampoo because it made him think of Harry, who always eats apples from the fruit bowl in their kitchen. And never replaces them. "Reminds me of what I can and can't control."

Louis' hands still and he retracts his fingers from the surface of Harry's hot skin. "I don't like control," he whispers with a frown, basically sulking. Harry's hand trails from Louis' hair until it finds the side of his face, he traces sweet circles onto Louis' high cheekbones.

"You don't?" he asks, Louis shakes his head insanely. "Why not?"

He shrugs, letting his head fall back against Harry's legs. "S'overrated, shouldn't be so difficult."

Louis feels fingers carding through his hair again and sighs at the heavenly feeling. "You struggle with it?" Harry asks him quietly, Louis can feel his chest rising with each breath he takes in. It feels good.

"Yeah..." he glances up to check nobody else is listening. They're not. Liam and Zayn have drifted into sleep, leaning on each other's heads for support and Niall's flat out on his back with headphones on, jamming to whatever song he's playing (probably Justin Bieber, he's slightly obsessed with him and his older songs, who knows why). "It's why I...y’know."

"Oh," Harry hesitates for a second. He picks up Louis' arm and holds it easily with his big palm, his index finger trails over his ink there. "How long have you struggled with it?"

Louis closes his eyes for a few seconds. He feels his body gradually grow more tired. "Um, I think it first started when I was sixteen? Then it stopped for a bit and now it's been like eight months. Give or take," he says. He doesn't need to look up to know Harry's cringing.

"It makes me sad," Harry confesses with a sheepish voice.

"Oh," Louis doesn't open his eyes in case he meets Harry's and sees the sadness within them. He knows it's there. "Why?"

Harry's finger moves across his arm and Louis feels goosebumps trail up his skin. It's a good thing he has Harry's body heat to comfort him. "You shouldn't damage yourself the way that you do. You have such pretty wrists," he says and Louis' heart clenches. "And they're all marked up with these." Louis peeps an eye open just enough to see Harry stroking his fading scars mixed in the sea of tattoos he's gathered over the years.

"I—I don't know what else to do, Haz." He inhales slowly. "I don't want to do it. Sometimes I like doing it, but then I always regret it. I wish I didn't have these marks, you know?"

"Hey, you might hate them, but they're still a part of who you are," Harry affirms, giving Louis' a reassuring squeeze. "The ones _I_ don't like are the news ones, under here." He smooths his hands over Louis' legs and watches as Louis curls into Harry even more.

"I haven't done it since," he mumbles against Harry's soft sweater.

"Yeah?" Louis nods. "That's really good, Lou. Really."

"Is it?"

"When things get bad and you start to struggle with control, find me okay? I'll help you," Harry whispers.

"How will you help me?" Louis' reply is practically silent.

"Hmmm. When you're about to hurt yourself I'll simply hold you," Harry grabs both of Louis' wrists with his hands and keeps them bound together tightly. "Like this and then, you won't be able to do it. Problem solved."

Louis muffles out a laugh and whacks Harry's knee with a grumble. "I could still find a way. Or when you're not around, I could do it then."

"Yes, that's true," Harry muses, pulling Louis into his chest and wrapping his arms around the small of his back. Louis is practically clinging to Harry like a koala. "But if you really want to learn control, you won't do it when I'm not around. And if you think you're going to, call me. I will find you," he says.

"You will?"

"I will."

-

It's been six months. Six. Summer's ending and frost is beginning to gather on every ageing leaf as early morning approaches.

Louis has had an amazing time throughout his time off. He's visited his mum and the girls, he's been away with the boys and they've even been camping. He and Harry ended up sharing a tent, it was really nice actually.

They spent almost every night there sneaking out of the campsite and running down to the river where they'd lay down together and talk about the stars. Louis would enjoy the way the water trickled beside them. He was captivated by the pleasant sounds of Harry's slow breathing as he lay his head on his chest and played with the sleeves of his sweater.

Harry would ramble on and on about these weird scenarios that would probably never happen, but Louis would always listen and give in to them.

It always things like _what would happen if jellyfish suddenly decided to overpopulate and basically overthrow every species in the ocean, would they come for the land next?_ And then, _obviously, they'd need to adapt to being able to breathe on land, but still. We wouldn't stand a chance!_ Or _I wish I had a superpower. I really want to fly but there are so many to choose from. I reckon I've hacked it though. Because I want magic. If I had magical powers I could just whoosh away whenever I wanted to! And then I basically have teleportation powers, too. And a bunch of others. I'm a genius!_ Oh and then, _don't pout Louis. I'll use my magic for good as well. I'll magic you up some fruit 'cause you always complain about me eating it all._

He liked hearing about Harry's bizarre fantasies.

Obviously Louis started to worry about what the boys would think, they surely picked up on their sudden closeness. But Liam simply shrugged and told him, "it was only a matter of time before you got together."

Louis laughed it off, they weren't together, but alright. At least everyone was okay with things. Their time away flew by smoothly.

However, one of the nights there, Louis felt a little too warm as summer was at its peak and even without the sun's company, he was just too hot. He sprung to his feet from the ground and tugged on Harry's hand until he did the same. Louis giggled and skipped along the river bank teasingly, knowing exactly what he was scheming.

When Harry came up from behind him and wrapped two large hands around his waist, nosing into Louis' neck, he spun around and shoved at his chest until he fell directly into the water. It was hilarious.

Harry shrieked with impact and shook off his green bandana, throwing it to the side and swimming over to Louis. He grabbed at his ankles and before Louis could even think about escaping, he was pulled under.

As he gasped for air, breaking the water's surface, he was met with the brightest of eyes. Even in the moonlight's lazy glow, they shined so perfectly. Little twinkles of wonder and fondness swarmed around the jade of Harry's pupils and Louis adored it.

They swam over to each other, playfully shoving and whacking at one another until Louis' legs found Harry's waist and he wrapped his arms around his neck. Harry sighed with a peaceful smile, glancing at Louis admirably. "Calm their chaos, but never silence their storm."

Louis tilted his head. "What are you going on about, Curly?" he said.

Harry merely smiled. "I read it somewhere and it reminded me of you."

"It did?"

"Uh-huh," he grinned, pulling Louis closer as the water passed by them. "I really like you."

"You do?"

"Stop doing that."

"Sorry."

"Yeah, I do. I want you. Want to be yours."

"Is that so?" Louis questioned, inching closer to Harry. So much so that their noses brushed together, Harry chuckled.

"Very much so. Proper fancy you, you know."

"Hmmm. I proper fancy you."

"Say you want me too."

Louis shimmied a little, adjusting his body and cupping Harry's face with his damp hands. He ran his fingers through Harry's wet hair and gave off a dramatic sigh, lolling his head back and smirking. "Or what?"

Harry half-grinned and shook his head. "I'll kiss you."

"You will?"

"You're doing it again."

"Sorry."

"Hm."

"Get on with it then," Louis rolled his eyes and attempted to scold Harry once more, but found himself cut off by the force of Harry's lips being pressed onto his. They were cold and covered in little droplets of water, but they felt ever so right.

Louis hummed and kissed Harry back, running his tongue easily along Harry's lower lip until his mouth parted a bit more and their tongues finally met. He moaned contently and smiled against Harry's mouth.

When he pulled back, he was at a loss for words. Literally.

"Should've done that sooner," he eventually said, after a minute of stargazing into Harry's mesmerising eyes.

"We got there in the end," Harry smirked.

To retaliate, Louis kneed him in the ribs and swam away, splashing water at Harry and giggling when he was pulled back under the surface. They fought and fought and fought and kissed and kissed and kissed all bloody night.

He's a funny one, Harry. Louis wouldn't trade him for anything or anyone, though.

It's when Uni is about to kick off again, in just under a week, Louis is starting to panic when suddenly things aren't as easy going as they were. As the boys are off shopping and sorting out whatever needs to be sorted for new classes, Louis has been in bed all morning pondering and questioning it all.

He's terrified.

What if he isn't going to pass his exams? What if all of this was a gigantic waste of time because Louis wasn't cut out for any of it?

He's going to let his mother down and his little sisters who look up to him so dearly. He's going to disappoint everyone.

How come he couldn't do it like the others? His friends are so smart and so gifted, they complete their work and live life to their best ability and Louis' worthless compared. All he's good at is moping around, drinking booze and procrastinating.

He's a joke.

It's all hurts so much.

His head is pounding and his chest is so fucking tight, it feels really heavy. His body is fidgety and he can't sit still at all. He has barely slept or eaten a thing and he feels ridiculously nauseous. His lip is sore from the amount of time he's spent just chewing at it, ruthlessly. His nails are short from chewing on them, too. He feels itchy and agitated all over. His eyes are achy and his vision is blurry. His legs are stiff and extremely cramped up.

He's in fucking agony.

It's always going to be like this, isn't it?

Summer was just a breath of fresh air and the waves will never stop. They will always come and he will always be taken by them. They only settled for a bit, that was what summer was; the sea calmed down and all seemed still, but then a storm struck and it's all picked up again.

Louis' going to drown in it.

He's going to drown in the storm.

Without realising it, he is stumbling blindly into the bathroom and turning on the bright lights. He's opening up the empty bottle of shampoo and pulling _it_ out.

He told Harry he had binned it just before summer begun, but he lied. Deep down Louis knew this would happen. He knew he wouldn't be strong enough to refrain for too long. So he kept it and well, he was right, he wasn't strong enough to hold back.

He's drowning.

He doesn't know what has actually happened until a blinding throbbing feeling shoots up his arm and he feels his entire body go faint. Louis stumbles back and falls to the ground when his legs collide with the bathtub. The shard falls somewhere but he can't seem to care. He feels his phone buzz in his back pocket and reaches desperately to pull it out.

He's suffocating. He's drowning.

After unlocking it, he painfully dials Harry's phone number from his recent calls and fights the urge to shut his eyes. He feels really sleepy and he knows it's not a good sign. His throat is closing up by the second. It doesn't usually feel like this. He's scared.

As Louis struggles for breath, he hears the line connect after a couple of rings. "Hey, I just texted you! Do you want me to buy you some more orange juice or do you have enough at hom—"

"I fucked up," he interjects, struggling to breathe.

"What?" There's a brief pause. "Louis, hold on. Take deep breaths, calm down. What's wrong?"

"I—I'm...struggling," Louis glances down fearfully, there's a lot of red.

He gulps.

"You're struggling?" He hears Harry shuffle about on the line as he clutches the phone. "What with, control?"

"Y—yeah."

Harry sighs and continues moving frantically. "Okay, it's alright. Take deep breaths, alright. Lou? Don't move, I'll be there in ten minutes. Asap, okay?" Louis doesn't respond but he hears Harry disconnect the call.

He tries to calm his breathing and stop his body from trembling as his back slides down the outer surface of the bathtub slowly. He's sat down on the floor, shivering and shaking relentlessly; he's drowning. 

He's not quite sure whether what he's hearing is actually happening, but seconds go by after Louis thinks he hears the front door open and suddenly the bathroom door is urged open too. Harry barges in with wide eyes as he rushes over to Louis, crouching down and cradling Louis' face with his cold hands.

"'M sorry," Louis croaks out, eyes closed.

Harry gives him a small shake and searches Louis' blue eyes worryingly, attentively, the second they open. "It's okay," his voice is quivery. "You called me. You found control, baby. You did it." He grabs a towel from the hanger next to him and wraps it around Louis' blood-soaked wrist. "You're okay," he says. His voice breaks and his gentle eyes gloss over when he looks at Louis with a heartbreaking gaze. "Shh, you're gonna be okay."

Harry lifts Louis up by sliding an arm under his bent legs and cradling his back. Louis' head sways back and forth like dead-weight in Harry's grasp.

Harry manages to keep a strong hold on Louis' wrist, pressing the towel down onto it firmly. "I'm going to take you to the hospital now, okay?" Louis nods and hides his tear-stained face into Harry's chest, muffling his broken sobs. "You're okay."

He carries Louis through the flat and soon enough they're outside and Harry's unlocking his car. "You're gonna be okay."

But Louis' already asleep. 

-

By the time he comes back into consciousness, he's groggy and a little fuzzy. He remembers what happened for the most part and when he glances down, he can see his bandaged wrist. It feels tight but most importantly secure. His tired eyes scan the room, panicked, seeking out a set of distinct curls. His heartbeat calms when he sees Harry sat next to him, lips pursed and eyes sealed with sleep. He looks like art and Louis wonders whether he's really awake or if he's still dreaming.

With a small groan, Louis shifts forward and reaches out for Harry's dangling hand, swaying off his chair loosely. He interlocks their fingers and smiles when Harry's eyelashes flutter beautifully.

"Hi," he rasps. His throat's really quite sore.

After a few rather comedic blinks, Harry surges forward and hugs Louis so tightly he thinks he might implode. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry I wasn't there, Lou. Are you—" he pulls back and scans his face. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

"Hey," Louis places his hand on Harry's shoulder and laughs lightly. "I'm okay. Thank you for bringing me here."

"I should've been there. I hadn't seen you in days I should've known—"

"Harry... Stop."

"Louis, you've been doing so well. What happened?"

"Nothing, I just—nothing."

"That won't work on me anymore. Louis."

"Harry, please. I don't want to do this right now. I'm okay, see. It won't happen again."

"Louis—"

"Is my mum here?"

"Louis."

"Is she? Is Liam?"

Harry sighs and stands up, running his hand through his hair and pacing over to the room door. 

"I'll go get them."

Harry doesn't leave the hospital all day. Even if he and Louis didn't speak at all, he stayed. As Louis spoke with many nurses and took on many visits from Niall, Zayn, Liam, his sisters and his mother, Harry waited outside for it all.

And when Liam visited, he and Louis spoke for quite a while. Hours at most. 

When Liam finally emerged from the room, darkness had taken over the sky and his eyes were pink and puffy, his heart was clenched and when Harry pulled him into a hug he cried immediately. They both let out their pain with shaky sobs and a poorly assembled hug.

Now it's officially nighttime and the nurses said Louis only has to stay one more night and then he can leave in the morning without further trouble.

So Harry's staying again. Jay said it was okay and she trusts him. They've actually met a couple of times before so it wasn't necessarily awkward, though that was when Louis and Harry didn't really speak, she still trusts Harry.

The nurses approved too, but Louis doesn't know he's staying yet. So Harry braves it and opens the door to his room apprehensively, ready to be yelled at.

Except when Harry walks in, the first thing he sees isn't Louis' fists curling up or his jaw clenching with fury. Instead, he's met with a much sadder sight. Harry hears his heartstrings snap one by one.

Throughout the darkness of the dismal room and the silvery moonlight seeping through the cracks between the blinds shading the large windows, Harry can just about make out Louis' silhouette. His back is facing him and he's hunched over, hands cupping his face as he lets out small sobs into his palms. His hair is ruffled and unkept and Harry knows he isn't okay.

He takes a step closer but decides to throw caution into the wind and place his hand on Louis' shoulder.

At that, Louis jolts with shock and instantly wipes away the wetness pooling underneath his eyes. He blinks away the fresh tears and draws in a shaky breath. "Go home, Harry," he sighs.

"No, I can't leave knowing you're not okay. I certainly can't sleep knowing that. Please talk to me, Lou. Let me help."

Louis shakes his head, catching his quivering lip between his teeth. "I feel so hopeless, Harry. I'm so sick of feeling this way. I don't know how to stop feeling like this. Nothing ever gets better."

"That's not true," Harry steps closer. "It does get better. It was getting better and it will carry on doing so."

"You don't know that."

"You put yourself down so much, Lou. You're capable of such wonderful things and all you do is put yourself down. Just allow yourself to _live_ ," he pleas desperately. His cheeks are warming up immensely and Harry can feel his own tears daring to fall.

Louis sniffles and rolls his eyes humorously. "What's the point?"

"Wh—what's the point?"

"Yes," Louis speaks as if it's obvious. "What is the point?"

"Louis, I..."

"Life is the art of dying. It's all we're here for. Why should I try so hard to live, when the end destination for us all is to just, die?"

Harry's astonished. "So what, that's it? You're just giving up."

Louis laughs. "I gave up a long time ago, H."

"Bullshit."

"What?"

"You heard me. That's bullshit."

"Oh, yeah? Why's that?"

"I think everything you've just said is bullshit."

Louis deadpans him, hands clenched shakily at his sides. "I don't care what you think."

"Oh, really?"

"Yep," Louis pops the 'p' to push Harry further.

He strides over to Louis and glares at him harshly. "You're afraid."

"I am?"

"You're doing it again."

"I'm not doing anything. I hate when you say that."

"Stop ignoring what I'm saying. You're afraid to live. You want to but you're afraid to. I know you, Louis."

He steps back. "No, you don't. You may think you do, but you only know the person I want you to see. You see the smiles and the laughs and the fucking happiness. So stop with all of this nonsense. It's been months now. You haven't fixed me, alright? I just pretended you had. I'm sorry, really. For a second there I thought you might've, but you didn't and you're probably not going to, ever, so this conquest of yours will never be fulfilled. Give it up."

"You're not a fucking conquest, Louis. Jesus Christ. I never wanted to _fix_ you. I wanted to help you. There's a fucking difference. Christ, you're so fucking stubborn."

"Or maybe you're just an idiot. Shouldn't have gotten involved."

"I'm glad I got involved. But yeah, maybe I am an idiot."

"How's that make any sense?"

"Well, I wanted to help you, didn't intend on fucking falling for you as well."

Louis scoffs. "Get out."

"No."

"Harry, seriously. Get out."

"Why? Because I love you?" Louis grimaces. "You want me gone because I love you?"

"Stop. If you don't leave within the next minute I call for a nurse."

Harry takes two more steps forward, closing Louis in. "Why? Does that scare you?"

"Harry—" his voice breaks mid-speech. "Stop it."

"This is the problem with you, Louis. You don't want to get better."

"Stop it," he grits.

"Tell me I'm wrong, then."

"Harry, back the fuck off."

"Tell me you do want to get better."

"Get away from me."

"Tell me!"

"I do. I—fuck," Louis tugs at his hair roughly as his eyes begin to water over. His gaze falls to the floor timidly and he closes in. "I do...because of you."

"Because of me? ...What?"

Louis locks eyes with the taller boy and fights the urge to look away. "You make me want to get better. You make me want to _live_." Harry's lips remain parted but he doesn't dare say another word in fear of Louis withdrawing himself all over again. "I am afraid," he says. "I'm afraid that if I let myself love you, it won't be enough."

"Louis—"

"I'm never enough, Harry. I can't control everything and that's the problem, I will never be enough and I have no control over that. _That_ is why I'm afraid."

"You're more than enough. Fuck, Louis. You're everything. I think about you constantly, I did before you even liked me. It drives me insane. It breaks my heart that you look down on yourself so much." Harry reaches out and holds Louis' cheeks, wiping away the dampness.

"You are worth your imperfections. You are worth your insecurities. You are worth your good and your bad. You are worth fighting for and you sure as hell are worth loving." Harry leans down and presses his forehead to Louis'.

"What if it gets bad again?" Louis whispers faintly, pressing into Harry's touch, just so he can be sure he's really there.

"'Again'," Harry repeats. "That means it'll get better, too. It'll always get better. It might get bad but it'll get better 'again'. It's recovery, Lou. It takes time and I'll be right here with you through it all."

He chokes out a concealed sob, scrunching his eyes closed and swallowing the lump building within his throat. "I don't deserve you, Harry."

"No, baby," Harry kisses his temple. "You do. You deserve so much better than all of this."

"N—I,” recovery, right? It’ll get better. “Thank you, Harry. For helping me."

Harry smiles at that. His lips curve against the flushed skin of Louis' forehead and he breathes in his scent, instantly finding himself ease. "Thank you for letting me."

-

So maybe after everybody got into the flow of things when classes picked up and the school year took its start at an underwhelming pace, Louis realised things might not be as terrible as he thought they would be. Granted, he still struggles every day. That much hasn't changed, but it's improving if anything.

He thinks even he scared himself after the events of that one night. Every time he sees his new grand scar, his stomach will immediately drop with unease. It was reckless and stupid and impulsive and it could've been permanent. He could've never recovered. Louis may have never had the chance to hug the twins and sing Christmas songs with Lottie. He may have never gotten to make pancakes for his family whenever he stops over and he may never have gotten to drink too many beers with the guys ever again. And he may never have gotten to kiss Harry again and curl up into his side when he can't sleep.

Most importantly, Louis may never have gotten the chance to be happy.

But it wasn't permanent.

He survived and to his own surprise, he's finally happy. Like rosy cheeks and skipping down the street happy.

After classes, he and Harry _always_ nip across the street and grab a coffee from the café Zayn works at. Niall got a job bartending because well, let's face it, the boy's a fanatic for booze. Liam's off at the gym most of the time but sometimes he'll hold back and get a drink with them after class as well.

Neither of them minds how busy their friends are though. It just leaves them more time to be together. Although Louis has had to increase the number of apples he buys on his weekly grocery shop, Harry simply counteracts that by buying Louis too much orange juice. 

When Louis came back home from the hospital, hand clutching Harry's ever so tightly, they made their ways through the flat together. Liam offered a proud smile to his best mate, as did his other friends and they carried on through.

Harry gave Louis' hand a tiny squeeze before pushing the bathroom door open and flicking the light switch. The smaller boy took a deep breath and followed him inside, feeling his anchor grip down amidst the storm that's merely passing him by. He leans over and presses a loving kiss to his boyfriend's cheek before turning around with an overdue sigh, picking up the damned shallow bottle of shampoo and emptying its contents.

The shard lands in his hand and as Louis analyses every jagged curve, he feels light pressure being applied to his shoulder. Harry places his chin next to Louis' neck and slides his hands around the boy's waist warmly.

It's then, that he knows it's finally time and he doesn't need control anymore.

Louis never needed to learn how to change or find relief. No. He just needed acceptance. He needed to know that no matter how fucking dreadful he felt, Louis was always in charge of the storm.

It seemed years ago Louis had become a sort of dark cloud, one that had formed abruptly in the midst of a very blue, stable sky. This dark cloud would disrupt all of the peace he once knew, bring damage and destruction; that led on to Louis becoming a storm himself.

Instead of tackling his storm with courage and trust in himself, Louis hid in the depths of it all. It was his fear that made him lose control.

Now though, he no longer worries about another cloud possibly forming. He doesn't.

It shouldn't have happened in that way, maybe, but Louis is sort of glad his final release did occur. He wished this twisted awakening could've been better, yes.

But in the end, it finally led him to realise,

he needed the rain.

As Louis watches that tainted piece of glass flush down the drain, he feels his airways widen and his body fucking fly.

He spins around and kisses Harry so fucking hard he thinks their lips might mould together forever. He groans and hums delightfully, sinking his fingers into Harry's wonderful curls and feeling euphoria buzz through his veins and lighten up his skin.

"You never silenced my storm," he whispers against Harry's pink, puckered lips contently.

Harry fucking grins and smoothes his hand around Louis' curved hips, letting out a small noise of satisfaction. "Nope."

Louis fluffs up Harry's curls, ruffling them about playfully and trailing his small hands across Harry's forehead, cheeks, chin, neck, ears, everywhere. "Calmed my chaos, though."

"Yep."

"And that calmed the storm."

"It did."

"I love you, Harry," Louis affirms, beaming at his lover with eyes as bright and as blinding as the sun. "I love you more than the stars in the sky.

Harry's green eyes flare up with endearment and possibly shift with joy as they glow beautifully. Louis thinks both of their eyes are so bright right now it's like they're two stars connected and their light has joined together to become even stronger. Stronger than any sun or any ball of fire that's ever existed.

"Well. You must love me a whole lot then."

At that, Louis plants wet and affectionate kisses over every inch of skin on Harry's face he can find. Between the contagious giggles and adorable wriggles under Louis' grasp, he can't help but notice his heart pulsing. He's never felt more alive.

"I was wrong."

"Oh," Harry's eyebrows form a small furrow and he tilts his head cutely. "About?"

"Life. The art of and such."

"Oh, is that right?" Harry squeezes the sensitive side of Louis' hip and he writhes and yelps before letting out unwilling bursts of laughter. "Go on then, tell me why you were wrong."

Rolling his eyes, he shoves at the taller boy's chest before slotting his face between the curve of his shoulder and neck. His lips brush lightly against the warm skin there. "I think life is art in itself. It's rarely ever pure and never ever simple, it's uncertain and so painfully hard to trust and have faith in, but that's why it's _art_. Yet it isn't the art of _dying_ , never was."

"Louis Tomlinson, you bewilder me every day. I'm in love with you and your words of wisdom," Harry says.

Louis chuckles unsurely, shyly even. "I don't even think any of that made sense."

"Probably not," Louis shoves him but Harry laughs it off. "But it was beautiful and I love you, too. And I think life is art as well. You sappy twat."

"Shut up," Louis groans, already regretting his choice to even speak.

"I'm teasing. I like when you go all poetic on me. Sound so smart and attractive," Harry purrs.

"My God, you're so annoying."

"But I'm proud of you."

"Thank you. I'm proud of myself, too."

"You should be. You've come a long way."

"Couldn't have done it without you."

"Don't give me all the credit, Lou. You did that," Harry gestured to the empty toilet bowl, which is a bit gross, and smiles. "All by yourself."

"I did?"

"You did. And it was your idea."

"It was?"

"You're doing it again."

"I hate when you say that."

"No, you don't."

"I don't?"

"I'll fucking kill you," Harry says as he ducks down and picks Louis up by his thighs.

"You will?"

"Shut up," he grunts, wrapping Louis' legs around his sides and carrying him out of the bathroom. "Doing my head in."

"I am?"

"Louis."

Louis yelps when he's jostled about in Harry's strong arms as he intentionally pretends to drop him, countless times. Fucking menace.

"If you break _anything_ I'll kill you both, MYSELF!" Liam interjects from the living room.

The two boys laugh so hard tears pool in their eyes and they stumble into Louis' bedroom planting and attacking each other with too many messy kisses and a whole lot of smitten love.

_**Life is art.** _

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for giving this a read, kudos are really appreciated!!  
> promise i'll lay off on the sad louis fics eventually... maybe :)


End file.
